


the fallingford sodomy allegations! (oh, how scandalous!)

by lonelyheartsclub_com



Category: Murder Most Unladylike Series - Robin Stevens
Genre: M/M, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:53:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28978461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonelyheartsclub_com/pseuds/lonelyheartsclub_com
Summary: bertie wells is home for the 6 week hols when a photo is sent in to the daily sun. that photo destroys his reputation, his family, and most importantly, his life.
Relationships: Harold Mukherjee/Bertie Wells, Stephen Bampton/Bertie Wells
Kudos: 7





	1. they tore through my room.

**Author's Note:**

> tw // homophobia, religious guilt, mentions of sex, thoughts of suicide/planning

They tore through Bertie's room. 

Through his correspondence, searching under his mattress, screaming at him to give them the name of the boy he was with, give them something, anything, that they could incriminate and have him sentenced for. But the hour prior, his mother made him burn every last letter he'd ever received from Stephen Bampton, for that boy was the one that had gotten him into the situation.

Bertie was outed.

It was like a slug to the jaw, his mind spinning. They were all sitting at the dining table, when there came a knock and a shout of, "Wellses? I think you're going to want to see this." 

So Lord Hastings got up and snatched the newspaper from the boy, and he scampered away. There was something in big, bold letters, when Lord Hastings turned to face their mother, rage apparent in his eyes.

"Did you know about this, Margaret?" he hissed, making sure to avoid Bertie's eyes. He showed her the newspaper and she went red. She shook her head no, and Daisy stood up.

"Mummy? Daddy? What's going on?" she asked. They both shook their heads no, as if to say, "No, you don't want or need to know," Lord Hastings shooed her out of the room before turning to face Bertie, slamming the newspaper down in front of him, causing him to flinch. 

And there it was.

_**"READ ALL ABOUT IT: THE HON. ALBERT WELLS IS A SODOMITE! READERS ARE CALLING IT THE FALLINGFORD SODOMY ALLEGATIONS."** _

Bertie's words clogged up in his throat, his mind went foggy, and he shook his head. "It's a l-"

Lord Hastings flipped it open to page 5, and there the picture was. It was a picture of Bertie and Stephen, Bertie's hands tangled in Stephen's hair and Stephen's long arms around his waist. He said nothing. What was there to say? 

"Albert, we didn't raise you to be like this. Get up." his mother snapped.

"No, It's not me in that photo." he lied, hands starting to sweat.

"I said, _get up._ " Margaret repeated, reaching out to grab her son and pull him up. 

"What's happening? What are you-"

"We're going to church. Only God knows why you've been cursed with this _disease,_ this menace." she hissed, and Bertie wanted to be sick. Margaret grabbed her purse, and Lord Hastings took his coat. "It's only a matter of time before the police get here. When we get back, you will burn everything you own under your bed, do you understand?"

Bertie nodded. 

"You're a disgrace. I can't even stand the sight of you. How dare you-" she started, but Lord Hastings cut her off. 

"Don't even speak to him, Marge. Sodomites don't deserve to have that privilege." and they were silent for the rest of the walk. Bertie could feel his head spinning, regret coursing through his veins with every step he took. 

Church was a horrid affair. 

The pastor eyed him with disgust, the other members of the congregation whispering slurs. 

When he got home, it was only a matter of time before his parents sat him down and asked to explain, asked him why on earth he turned out this way. 

And they did. 

Lady and Lord Hastings sat across from him, next to each other. Margaret's hand was in her husband's, and they looked like a picture perfect couple. _Too bad they have a sodomite for a son_ , Bertie thought. 

"The police'll be here soon, Albert. Why? Why would you do this, why would you disgrace us this way?" Lady Hastings asked, her voice desperate.

Bertie fiddled with a brooch his parents had bought him for his 12th birthday, and he was ashamed of himself. He had no idea what to say. "It was an accident. I'm not really attracted to boys, I swear it."

"That photo says otherwise. You wanted to kiss that boy, Bertie." Lady Hastings countered, and Bertie could tell her patience was wearing thin. Not that she had much to begin with. 

"What do you want me to say, then? That I wanted to kiss him, and-" Lady Hastings stood up, her slight frame shaking with disgust and anger. _Think of happy things, Bertie. Think of happy things._

Lady Hastings backhanded him, her rings cutting into his flesh and causing blood to drip down his cheek. 

"You disgust me. I have half a mind to kick you out of this house. Did the two of you ever-"

"No. It's not like that."

Then, Bertie could hear the sirens. Things only got worse from there. 

They burst in without a warning, running up to Bertie's room (he was forced to take them there.) and tearing through his clothes, his bed, just his room.

They tore through Bertie's room.

"Give us the name of that boy, Wells! Something, anything."

"No."

They said that if he wasn't an Honorable, they would've shoved him into their police car in that moment and had him locked up. 

Bertie woke up to the headline the next morning being, " ** _Will the Hon. Albert Wells be hanging in the gallows in this time two weeks?_** "

If Bertie were to be perfectly honest with you? He wouldn't care. He'd prefer it, even. 


	2. they tore through me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bertie is dreading waking up, dreading hearing what they have to say about him. every single day it gets worse, and worse, and worse.

Bertie had neglected sleep at this point. His parents wouldn't talk to him civilly, and he spent 3 hours at church everyday, trying to " _pray the sin away."_

Margaret was starting to get more and more upset with Bertie, starting to hit him more, starting to scream at him more. He stayed clean out of his mother's way. His father was no better. Lord Hastings would mumble that damn word under his breath as he took a long drag of his cigar and breathed out. Daisy wanted to see him, and she wrote him a note. It seems his parents hadn't filled her in on the current events. 

God, Bertie had single-handedly torn their family apart.

His father would toss the newspaper at him every day with a look that said, _"Look what you've done."_ Bertie was all they seemed to talk about. 

Every day they questioned what would happen to Bertie, if it damaged his chances of going to university, just anything having to do with him. If Bertie couldn't run off to Cambridge as soon as he turned 18, he didn't know what he'd do. 

The newspaper headings began to get more and more horrid, saying things that kept Bertie up at night. 

One day, as the Wells were eating their breakfast, which was just marmite on toast, the newspaper arrived and Lord Hastings read it. Then he laughed. "Marge, look at this!" 

Bertie's heart dropped. Were they finally talking about something other than the Fallingford Sodomy Allegations?

"Here, boy. I can see how curious you are." Lord Hastings said, handing it to Bertie.

Inside was a drawing done by someone, a crude caricature. 

A crude caricature of Bertie hanging in the gallows.

Bertie slammed the newspaper down, feeling sick to his stomach. It wasn't the drawing that irked him the most, although it was jarring. 

It was the fact that his parents thought that acceptable to laugh at. Thought it acceptable to laugh at a drawing of their son, dead. What happened to unconditional love?

He stood up, and he heard the shouts follow him. _"What's wrong, Bertie? Can't handle the consequences to your actions?"_

No, he couldn't. 

Bertie had only just turned 16, and the entire country decided that this was how they'd treat him. They decided they would torture him for something he couldn't control.

He wanted to scream that it wasn't his fault. Because, the truth of the matter was, it wasn't. 

There was nothing he could do. He felt more and more powerless with every passing day, and it was like he was living in a nightmare that he couldn't seem to wake up from. He desperately wanted someone to shake him awake, to tell him that he was okay, reassuring him that no one knew, but the reality was that everyone knew. Everyone knew that he liked men, and it was all because of a picture. Every household knew of it, and no one was going to save him from the sins that everyone demanded he repent for. But he would be lying if he said he didn't want someone to shield him from it all. 

If he could do something, it would be to disappear. 

Whenever he closed his eyes, all he saw was the drawing with the caption, _"Bertie Wells' fate."_ at the bottom. He felt like the hanged man, felt like he was doomed. Maybe he would hang. He would bag for it at this point. His family no longer loved him, he was the cursed, casted out child, and he was no longer the one that everyone liked. Everyone despised him now, apart from Daisy. And as for Daisy...she'd phone home, and when she did, it was usually to talk to their mother and father. She'd never talk to Bertie, and it was probably because she was deadly ashamed of him. Who wouldn't be? He was ashamed of himself, and he couldn't even imagine how it felt for his relatives.

Their uncle Felix still called. Felix seemed to care, but Bertie would be lying if he said he couldn't hear the tone of disgust in his voice as he laughed and asked him if he was doing alright, recent events aside. 

But he couldn't blame him. 

He did not blame anyone for despising him now, as much as he hated it, as much as it hurt.

He wanted to call Stephen, beg him to save Bertie, but Stephen didn't care. They barely even spoke, and Bertie was terrified of what Stephen would say. He'd laugh at Bertie, say that he was an Honourable and that he should be able to deal with it because he was rich.

It felt a bit like Bertie was burning at the stake.

This was slowly consuming every part of him, torturing him, and eventually, it would kill him. 

He felt pathetic, disgustingly so, because no one would save him, and he was not looking to save himself either. 

He'd let himself die.


	3. they tore through my life.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the last chapter on bertie, and how he copes with the allegations 2 years later.

Bertie grinned at Amanda, who was rolling her eyes. "Come on, Manda, just give me the answers! You do want me to stay here, righ-"

"Careful, Price. You've heard about the Allegations, haven't you?" Chummy hissed, nudging her with a cruel smile. She glared at him, and she picked her bag up, gesturing for Bertie to follow her. When they got back to Bertie's room, Alfred and Harold were stood there with Henry, discussing something. 

"Bertie, is everything alright?" Harold asked, putting a hand on Bertie's shoulder. He faked a smile, and Harold's eyes flicked to Amanda for a moment, and then back. They all sat down in Bertie's room, the tone of conversation light hearted. 

"What are the allegations I keep hearing everyone talk about? Did someone in this room murder someone?" Alfred joked. Bertie couldn't hold back the tears. 

He still hated any mention of the FSAs, because they ruined his life and tore through him, tore through and destroyed everything he had known, but it wasn't Alfred's fault he didn't know. Henry loosely put a hand on his. He'd known Henry since he was a child, since she went to the same school as Daisy and they had been friends. Daisy had been a day girl when she was younger, but eventually their parents distanced themselves from her too. 

"When I was 16, a picture surfaced of me and..." Bertie hesitated. Saying Stephen's name hurt. "One of the boys from Eton. We were kissing in the photo, and obviously, the country lost it. I still saved some newspaper articles that were...particularly gross, if you'd like to see them."

Alfred looked horrified. 

"Why are the British so-"

"Disgusting?" Henry asked. "They don't like us foreigners, Alf. What on earth makes you think they'd like homosexuals?"

He took a drag of his cigarette for a second, a sad look on his face. "They despise everyone in this room then." He joked, earning a stare from Henry. Harold laughed, and so did Amanda. Bertie allowed himself to laugh. 

He looked through his suitcase, and the articles were there, cut out." He handed them to Alfred, who skimmed through them. 

"Is that a drawing of you hanging?" he asked, his voice totally zoned out. 

Bertie nodded. "I had just turned 16 as well. Imagine how much that terrified me."

Alfred shifted uncomfortably. "When I was 16, I saw my uncle get shot in the street. I get it."

"When I was 16, I saw my girlfriend die, so I guess I count too." Henry said. Bertie remembered the way she'd called Eton at 5PM just to speak to him over the phone. Begging him to save her, that they'd killed Ver. 

"When I was 16, I was bullied for being poor, and kids would threaten to kill me. Does that count?" Amanda asked, hugging her knees to her chest.

Harold frowned and added, "When I was 16, I was still struggling with the fact that I was homosexual as well."

"I don't think any of us were having fun at 16." Bertie scoffed, and there was a nod of agreement. 

"1933 was a horrid year." Alfred joked. 

Amanda walked over to Bertie. "Would you like a hug?"

"You read those articles, didn't-"

"They were disgusting. How could they put you through that?"

Bertie stood up, and the tears spilled over. "I haven't a clue, Manda." Harold wrapped his arms around Bertie and Amanda, and Henry joined in. 

"Come on, Cheng." Alfred looked at them in bewilderment. 

"Why are the English so touchy-"

She pulled him into the hug, and he gave a look of surprise, but Bertie knew he was happy with it, because he eased into it with a smile. 

"Also, Alf, I take offence. I'm not English." Henry defended, huffing. "My family came over from West Africa when I was a child."

"Nor am I! I may be born here and have a British passport, but what does that mean?" Harold joked. "Technically, I'm still 100% Bengali, so I don't count."

Bertie closed his eyes, and he let his friends drown out what he was thinking. 


	4. my feelings tore through me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this chapter, which is set in TMFM, speaks about daisy's religious guilt, which came from the allegations.

Daisy had fancied Martita. And now she fancied the new girl, Amina El Maghrabi.

She was ever so pretty, with a sophisticated gleam in her dark eyes and her tumbling dark curls entrancing Daisy. Her brown skin shone in the low-hanging sun of British summer, and Daisy had instantly been taken with her.

But all she could think about was the Fallingford Sodomy Allegations.

She'd duck her head and cry in Chapel, hope none of the girls could hear her crying and praying to God for forgiveness.

Girls did not fancy other girls. 

It was unnatural, it was supposed to be unheard of. And yet, Daisy would still ask Bertie to buy her Sappho books for Christmas (which he did, but they were both sure not to tell their parents about that.) and she'd still think about Amina and her, running through spring fields with the others' arms around them tightly like an anchor.

Amina would look into her eyes and promise that nothing would go wrong because they loved each other, and nothing was more powerful than that. Daisy would kiss her softly - and this was usually the bit where she woke up, soaked in cold sweat, breathing heavy in self-repulsion - and Amina would kiss her back, and unlike all her dreams with Martita, Amina's fingers wouldn't be crossed. 

She had never necessarily seen what Hazel did when it came to boys, but she saw what her father did when it came to women.

She saw how their hair would fall perfectly, how their Cupid's bows would strike her right in the heart, how the soft curve of their necks would draw her in. It made her feel absolutely _disgusted_ with herself.

She thought about how the entire country ridiculed Bertie to hell and back, laughing and making jokes about how he was a _fucking faggot,_ one that deserved to be wiped off the face of the earth. 

Daisy could not look herself in the mirror anymore. All she saw was a girl that liked other girls, one that deserved to be locked up.

She tried her hardest, her absolute hardest, to ignore how her eyes would drift over to Amina. Amina, running for it in Games. Amina, winking at Daisy in their French lesson as Mam'zelle applauded her impeccable French. Amina, licking jam off her thumb. Amina, teasing Daisy and joking around. Amina, Amina, _**Amina.**_

It all drove her insane. Her feelings were starting to get harder to ignore, and she wanted to bang her head against a wall until she could not hear herself think anymore. 

She did not want to be what she was. She wanted to be normal, normal, normal, _normal-_

So she ducked her head in Chapel, praying to God for forgiveness, imagining what would happen if a picture of her kissing Amina surfaced. The teasing, the urge to kill herself. Bertie spoke about it to her briefly when they were at Cambridge. What the FSAs did to his mental health, they affected how he saw himself. Daisy saw how he still hesitated to look at himself in the mirror. 

He was disgusted with himself still, sometimes.

It made Daisy want to cut herself up, figure out exactly _what part of her_ was like this and rip it out of herself. She felt like a stranger in her own skin, like something was wrong and she wasn't truly human. 

Daisy wanted to rip herself to shreds, wanted to stop existing, wanted to die, wanted to not be like this. She knew Hazel was alright with it, but she was still disgusted with herself. She betted that secretly, Hazel was disgusted with her and didn't want to be her friend anymore. 

Daisy tugged at her hair, falling to her knees, repeating, "It's not fair!" at the top of her lungs. Why did she have to be like this?

It wasn't fair, the truth of the matter was. She couldn't control it, but she wanted to. If she could control it, she'd force herself to be normal.

But she couldn't.

For the first time in her life, The Honourable Daisy Wells was powerless, and no one was going to save her. She'd get lost at sea, just like Bertie did. 

Bertie let go of himself, and Daisy was going to as well. She didn't see the point of holding on, not when she was losing it.


End file.
